War of the Burning Roses
by Kosaka
Summary: rating may be subject to change. The world is at peace when a brutal assasination threatens everything the g-boys worked so hard for. NOT AN UPDATE. Story has been discontinued.
1. Summary and Rant

Disclaimer: I don't own the Gundam Wing or any of their characters. . . you know it, I know it, the people who DO own them know it, so what's the point, really?  
  
Summary: Part One of "War of the Burning Roses". It is, definitely one of my more Wufei-centric fics as well. Lots of made up characters and stuff that hasn't got anything to do with the main plot lines of GW, and as such, it is placed in time about three years after endless waltz.  
  
The era of wars is over and the gundam pilots have fallen into their individual lives when a brutal assasination threatens everything they had worked so hard for. A distant and solitary district of space, known as The Pluto District, comes to the forefront of everyone's attention as war once again becomes a possibility, and a secret about Gundanium alloy is revealed...  
  
WARNING! I am VERY slow to update this fic. (Actually, I've rewritten half of it about seven times now and still haven't figured out how it's going to end.) The first chapter sets up the story, and as such, there aren't a heck of a lot of g-boy appearances in it, I'm sorry about that, but it will be full of them in later chapters. For now, I'm only posting chapter one, and if I get reviews that say you want me to continue, I will post the next chapter and slowly but surely, watch this fic unfold. (Maybe my writing speed on this one will hurry up to if some random reviewer says something that inspires me or gives me a brilliant, albeit hair-brained idea.) Uh. . . please review. Please? *puppy dog eyes*. If you, by some freak chance decide that you really like this fic, and can't wait for me to post chapter two, you can find chapter 1-3 on my website (see profile).  
  
Uh. . . if I don't get any reviews for this, I'm not going to post another chapter. But I will continue my slow progress of updating it at my website. You can also find some of my other GW fics there, many of which I have decided, for one reason or another, not to upload here. Anyway, they're there if you want to read them. Didn't really mean to rant, but uh, well, I guess it's my nature. That's it for now. 


	2. Part One: The Rising of a Dark Shadow

"War of the Burning Roses"  
  
Chapter One: The Rising of a Dark Shadow  
  
by: Banshee Puppet  
  
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It has been another long day for her, daughter of Obala Zhi, the Taj Nebala of all of the Tum'sah. Early morning lessons, breakfast with the Council (relentless bores that they were), physical training, an hour of studying, her "free" time spent at the Dalhara helping Isayah with the terminal patients, running errands for him, and then the hard work of bringing the dead to the Kobukyan, piling them into the truck, stopping at the Nobaya to cut the roses, and finally, at the Kobukyan, lifting the bodies onto the pyres one by one, putting the roses in the glass containers and alighting both. Even Torin, tiny thing that she was, only about 5'2, was strong enough to do this work, she had to be. But as strong as she was, it was still difficult. It had taken her three hours, at least. And then the records had to be brought to the Hllozha where they were transcribed into the books, and also the the Vangza, third level, in the old art room that had been turned into an office. From there, the families of the deceased would be notified. This was the part Torin hated the most. It was so impersonal, but so many people died in the Tum'sah district, every day, that there simply wasn't any time to do it otherwise. But after all that work and a quick shower, Torin rested in the Nobaya; the conference with Vice Foreign Minister Darlain wasn't until this evening. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, just to rest a bit, but she fell, almost immediately, into deep dream. It is a real time that she dreams of--the day of her Tamakhal, the ceremony in which she was named her father's successor. People from all over the colonies had come to witness it, and not only the five Tum'sah colonies. It was a pretty big deal apparently, though Torin didn't know it was as big as all that at the time. She was, after all, only five years old and she had to sit for four hours while her father gave her her first braids, three intricate red woven strands with black and silver beads, and she'd been dressed in the traditional black silk cloak, like her father's, so the gaije, the foreigners, wouldn't learn her face. "You must beware of them Torin, the foreign ones, the gaije, they will try to take things from you," her father warned. "I won't let them," she said. "And I'll know the good ones because they'll give and take things equally, right father? Like they did in the Delcain- Gie." "Yes Torin, just like that." "And the good ones have the bakaba, same as we do, and they can become Tum'sah if they go through the rites, like mother did." "Yes. The Tum'sah is a culture of ideas, and only sometimes of blood."... And later she was surrounded by more people than her little five year old mind could fathom. She didn't know that so many people existed, let alone had come here for a silly ceremony. And so she underwent the Tamakhal. There were some speeches, translated into some of the common languages, though Torin understood the old Tum'sah language, so she assumed it was for the benefit of the gaije and those Tum'sah who no longer spoke the ancient tounge. Then the council put stinky things at her feet and painted her arms up in swirly green patterns that led into painted roses on her palms. Tradition, of course, she knew that much, but beyond that she didn't really understand what was going on. She passed all the physical tests that said she was strong enough to continue on the path of her destiny, her janai, and finally, she was before her fater. She didn't know what question he would ask, but she knew she'd get it right. She had studied very hard, after great effort committing the entire Delcain-Gie, all eight-hundred and seventy-three pages, to memory; that had been the hardest thing for her, but she had been studying it all her life, learning it by ear even before she could read the book herself. And her father kneeled before her, used a curved dagger to cut across the rose on her right palm, letting her blood mix with the soil in front of the Vangza, and he asked, "what will this blood attain for your people?" 'That's it?' Torin had thought. 'But that's an easy question.' "Freedom," she answered without hesitation. He smiled, though one couldn't see his face under his cowl, Torin had long ago been able to read his emotions through his other gestures, and she knew he was smiling. Her answer had pleased him. "Yes," he said. "Wonderful, Torin. Freedom and Peace are wonderful things."  
  
"I'll get them freedom," Torin answered. "Somebody else can get them peace when I'm done." There was a long silence. Even then, Torin knew why her people were dying, and that the gaije from the other colonies weren't doing anything to stop it. Things had not changed in over a hundred years and unless someone did something, they never would. Realizing that no one was speaking, she added finally. "Without freedom, peace is nothing but burning roses anyway." Torin starts, suddenly awake and looks at her watch. "Shit shit shit shit shit!" she says quickly as she runs out of the Nobaya. "Baktya! I'm gonna be late!" she curses as she runs toward the Vangza where she is to meet her father.  
  
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Miss Darlain. We should go now if you want to be on time for your meeting with High Guardian Zhi and his daughter." Relena looks up from the paperwork on the desk and says, "Yes, of course," before standing. In truth, she'd been staring at the same page for over an hour, unable to concentrate on it long enough to read it. She couldn't stop thinking about this conference with the leader of the Pluto District. Obala Zhi...hmm...Relena didn't remember ever meeting this man, which led her to believe that he had not been at the signing of the treaty papers that had created the World Nation. But why wasn't he there? Had this lost district of space been overlooked? 'Is that even possible?' she wonders as she adjusts the lapel of the fashionable grey suit she was wearing. Her blond hair had grown long again, halfway down her back and she had the top tied up in a small white ribbon. Could it be that so long after the fact they wanted to join the World Nation, if that was the case? But it wasn't likely, they would have contacted her sooner. So what could it be? Another oversight? That was the most logical deduction. 'News of this conference has spread throughout the colonies, and even as far as the Earth. That is just how sudden this all seems. What does the Pluto District have to do with us? That's what everyone is thinking. Heero, I wonder, what do you think about all this? Do you even care at all? I guess that's a silly question.' "Heero," Relena sighs as she sits down in the jet that is to take her to her meeting. They chose L-3 for the appointment. A small number of Tum'sah lived in this district of space, so it was at least close to being neutral ground. "Where have you run off to this time, Heero? I miss you."  
  
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"Torin..." "Oh! I know father. I know. I'm late again. I'm sorry, I fell asleep." "Don't worry about that," Obala answered. "Huh? What's going on?" Torin asked. Her father was acting weird, he didn't even scold her, and he seemed a little...sick. "What's up dad? You don't look well." "I'm fine. I've decided that you should stay home this time." "But! Father COMEON! You can't be serious!" Torin protested. "As hard as I've worked to make this conference possible. It never would have been without all my hard work and you know it. And everyone expects me to be there! And even if you spontaneously forget all that...you PROMISED I could come. You NEVER break a promise." "I know that Torin, but.."his eyes were wandering again, she could just sense it. His eyes always wandered when he was worried about something. Of course, she couldn't see them under the cowl, but she just KNEW, she could hear it in the tone of his voice, see it in his posture. "I thought it would be a good chance for you to get your feet wet, you know, run things while I'm away. Ought to get used to it, after all..." his voice seemed thin, hollow to her. 'What the hell is wrong with you?!?' she wanted to holler, but she bit her tounge. "Father, I practically run things already. You might as well be retired." "My master plan," he teased. It was getting under her skin, something was really bothering him. He had always told her before when something was wrong. "But I WANT TO GO! This is MY thing, and..." she had resorted to whining. Last ditch effort, she knows it, but she was really pissed that he was gonna pull this now and not even give her the common curtosey of telling her why. He had some balls. She gives him that steely look that said 'just wait till you get back dad, so help me if I don't kick your ass it'll be a miracle.' "I have your notes Torin. I'll do fine," he assures her. Smiling again, it made her cringe. Rama and Trowa came out of the Vangza side by side. (ooc: hey look! A gundam pilot! 'bout time, isn't it?) Trowa wore olive beads in his bangs and a green and black uniform similar to that of the older, thicker man to his right. Rama was Obala's Hana'ek, his advisor, to be trusted above everyone else. He had taken the position over from Obala's younger brother, Bai'zha, who had been removed from the Council and branded a traitor many years ago. Rama was older than Obala by about five years, and his wavy black hair was worn long and loose, about three inches beneath his shoulders, a short beard had flecks of grey in it that made him look a bit older than he actually was. "I'm going to leave Rai'ja here with you," Obala told her. "He'd just be bored at the conference anyway." Trowa nodded, a small smile crossing his lips breifly. "I'd probably fall asleep," he answers before dropping back into his usually blank, expressionless gaze. "My mind is set, so just stay here, okay." Obala continued. "..Rama, please prepare the jet, would you?" "Of course. I'll make sure it's ready," Rama answered, scratching the dark beard on his chin a bit as he walked off toward the western end of Irowe colony.. And then Obala started acting weird again, taking Torin's arms in his large hands, bending slightly so that he didn't tower over her quite so much, and saying, "Listen Torin, war is a cruel, heartless thing. That is why we must prevent the destruction of as many beautiful people as possible. In war, some sacrifices MUST be made but a true warrior knows which sacrifices those are, okay?" "We aren't AT war Father." He let go of her arms and returned his posture to it's proper state again. Her father was really starting to scare her now, he seemed so grave. But the father that she knew was always happy, always looking at things brightly, even when they were as bad as they were. Torin was supposed to be the pessimist of the family. "Always. Always at war, Torin. Always have been. Always will be. Never forget." And that was it, no "goodbye", no "behave". He always told her to behave when he went away somewhere, never DID tell her how to behave though. "He's acting weird Rai'ja," Torin said. "And I'm sorta pissed about it." "I've learned not to question it," Trowa answered. "I suppose that I'm YOUR errand boy until he comes back, whatever the case." "Dainya, not errand boy." "Right, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. I've got it." "It would be different if you were just any old gaije, you know that. But you know these words, I've heard you use them, and I know you know what they mean. It's just...Rai'ja...we've lost so much over the centuries--our homeland, then our language, then our lives, and we lose more every day. We have to hang on to what we still have. I know you think our traditions are silly, but with so little left that is our own, every little bit of our culture we have, right down to every last Tum'sah word, has become a memory of a time when we were on our own land, speaking our own language, and we were free." "I know Torin, and I understand. It's just..." he shook his head, to finish the sentence would be cruel. "It isn't your world. I know that, and I understand. You have a family to go back to in your own world. I promise, it won't be forever though, just a bit longer. We need someone to bear witness to the birth of a new world, after all, don't we? Just like father said. If all goes well we can have you back with your family, and your animals, by the end of the week. You'll get to go back to your world. But will it be the same world you left, I wonder?..." 'There she goes again. Torin, you think way too much sometimes.' Trowa thinks. "I want to be there Rai'ja, by my father's side. You have no idea how much I want it," she says before falling silent. Trowa nods. "Let's go to the Vangza and watch it with the others. Not the same as being there, I know, but live coverage, as you made them agree to, is the next best thing, right? You can tell us everything he says wrong." 'Don't you go drowning in those sad eyes of yours again Torin. Everyone worries that you're going to do something rash when you start sinking like that.' he thinks. Trowa had made it a point to converse with Torin occasionally. He wasn't very good at it, but he had discovered that if someone didn't talk with her, she'd probably never speak at all three months ago when her father Obala had hired him to become Dainya for a short while. She had her moments, of course, mostly because it was expected of her, but at other times she made even him look downright chatty. He didn't understand why, but this worried him a bit, for multiple reasons. "Alright," Torin answered finally. "We'll go join Damagi and the others."  
  
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After the last war, Wufei has found things rather quiet. Finally, after great effort, he has been able to settle down into the idea of peace. He works with the Preventers, having on and off stints, losing interest almost entirely when there's nothing to prevent, so he also got a job at a small library in the L-2 colony cluster, part time of course, and has taken the opportunity to get back into some of his more scholarly pursuits. He didn't really feel quite, entire, but he was content with the life he was living. He knew the other pilots, especially Duo, would be on him non-stop if they saw him reading stories to little children on Tuesday afternoons at the library. He never seemed like that type, he supposes. Nonetheless, he even helped put on a puppet show, which he found nothing short of embarrasing, and was glad no one was there to witness it. How he ended up having to play the sleeping beauty puppet and try to talk in a woman's voice was beyond him. But today was Saturday, a day off, so he spends it in his usual fashion, curled up on the couch with a book and some soft music--Beetoven today--playing in the background. Suddenly, he heard something beeping, which dragged him out of his book. "Huh? Oh, the phone," he realized, putting the book down on the couch and taking off his glasses before going to answer it. Sure, they weren't reading glasses, but he didn't really want to be seen in the dumb things, not that he could tell you why. "Sally? What's up?" "Wufei. Turn on your television. Quickly." Wufei nodded and picked up the remote to turn on his television. An Explosion. What's happened? Wufei wondered as he watched a reporter come onto the screen. "I repeat, on their way to a conference with Vice Foreign Minister Darlain, Obala Zhi, High Guardian of the Pluto District and his daughter, Torin Zhi, died in an accident when his ship exploded. Along with the two diplomats, the ships two pilots also died. There were no survivors....Wait, this just in...Torin Zhi was NOT on the jet when it exploded, she is at home on Irowe, the main colony of the Pluto District. I repeat, Torin Zhi was NOT on the jet. Our hearts go out to you Miss Zhi..." Wufei turned off the television, he had heard enough. "Wufei?" 'How could this have happened?' "Sally, how could this have happened? Aren't the Preventers in existence to stop just this sort of thing from happening?..." Sally cringed a bit, Wufei's tone let her know immediatly that he was slightly irate, if not altogether angry. "We had no warning. We just...didn't know," she answered. "Sally, I have to go now." "Are you going to Irowe, Wufei?" "I've got to pay my respects. I won't be away long." END COMMUNICATION. "No, Wufei," Sally said quietly. "I think you'll be away longer than you think. Because you're going to see the Tum'sah district, and you're going to meet Torin, and you're not going to be able to turn your back on all those dying people. People who are dying because of Gundanium."  
  
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Heero glances over his shoulder at the television as he puts on his denim jacket. "Well, what's it going to be, Torin," he asks. "Are you going to fight?"  
  
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Quatre squints at the television screen. He must have watched the explosion twenty times by now. It had been playing on every channel for the past two hours, over and over again. "There's something in the background," he whispers. "Another ship? Did they shoot him down? But why? Why would they? What would anyone want to kill that man for?" He shook his head a bit. "Are they trying to start another war?"  
  
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"Whaddya wanna go starting another war for?" Duo complained as he looked at the television. "What's that you said, Duo?" Hilde asked. "That poor guy just got assasinated and nobody even wants to acknowledge it. Hilde, I'm gonna find out why." "Do you think you'll have to fight again Duo?" "I can't say that I really know. I guess it really depends on what his daughter decides to do. Either way, I need to find out what's up." "Hey Duo, you've got an email. Your laptop is blinking again." "Okay," Duo says as he flings himself up off the couch.  
  
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"No. Father!" After saying this, Torin stared at the screen blankly for another hour. She didn't cry, she just stood there, in shock. There wasn't really anything anyone could say to her. It was hard to believe that such a thing could actually happen. Obala had been such an easy-going guy, no one understood why he had to die, or why anyone would want him to. Torin was the one the World Nation had to worry about, not Obala, everyone knew that. She was the one who had chosen freedom over peace. Finally, Trowa put his hand on her shoulder, the black silk of her cowl curling under his fingertips. "They did this because of me, Rai'ja, didn't they? My father died because of the conference I arranged, and he knew that he was going to. Before he ever left, he knew it. He died because of me, didn't he, Trowa, didn't he?!?" Torin whispered, a quiver of anger in her voice as she turned to face him, almost violently, her stature demanding an answer. No mere facial expression would satisfy her this time, and he knew it as well as anyone, so after a breif hesitation, he spoke. "I'm not going to lie to you, Torin. You're exactly right. They killed him because of you, maybe they thought that you were on that jet and were aiming for you. I can't know that. And now, you are Taj Nebala, and you need to decide what to do." "Yes, you're right, of course, you're right." 'Ah, good, she's calming down,' Trowa thought. "Tell Damagi to arrange an international frequency. I am going to make an announcement that I want all of the world to hear." Trowa nodded. "You'll need to put on your cloak." "Yes. I know. Rama is probably bringing it to me as we speak." "Can I ask what you are planning to do?" Trowa inquired. "The time has come for me to fullfil the promise I made to my people twelve years ago, Rai'ja, and I won't fail them." She paused for a long moment. Was she done, was that all she was going to say? Trowa couldn't be sure, so he lingered a moment. "Would you mind staying, just a little longer?" she asked finally. "Of course. I'll stay for as long as you need me. You don't have to ask Torin. I'll be by your side, whatever you decide to do. I'll follow you to hell if I have to, you know that.".....  
  
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End Part One: The Rising of a Dark Shadow  
  
Alright, there's the first chapter. What do you think? I know Torin seems a little, I dunno, too perfect? For the first few chapters, that's sort of necessary, but she's an ordinary human being just like the rest of us, I promise, and that WILL come out as the character develops through the story.  
  
I know there are a lot of invented words in here, a lot of them are explained and the meaning of others are implied. Example, "baktya" is a generic curse, translate it however you like. It's just a dirty word. If you feel I need a "dictionary" posted at the bottom of these chapters, (considering I continue) let me know and I'll start putting one up. Uh. . . anyway, please r&r. If you do I'll. . . um. . . post another chapter and. . .if you're lucky you might even get a hug. 


	3. Discontinuation

A/N: I've been thinking about this story and have decided to discontinue it. There are a couple of reasons for this. One of the reasons is that I got no reviews, so it doesn't seem as if anyone thinks it's worth continuing, but that's not really the big one. Actually, as I look over the story, it seems to me that the idea I'm working with is really too large to contain in a fanfic, and in some cases, I find that the characters are actually hindering my progress rather than helping it. Fact is, as I look back at all the work I've put into this and all the rewrites, I've realized that, even though this started out as an idea for fanfiction, it's become something else completely, and I've decided to reevaluate the general idea and step away from fanwork with it, creating all of my own characters, ditching the Gundam stuff, and creating something new and fresh in the form of an original work instead.  
  
Although I'm sad to see all this work just go up in smoke, I'm not really very sad about it, because I realize that it's going to be the birth of something new, and probably bigger and better. So many of my stories that start out as overgrown fanfictions evolve into much more interesting things, so I don't think I'm going to mourn the loss of this one. For those of you who read the prologue, thank you for giving it the benefit of the doubt. For those of you who are sad to see this go, I apologize. And though, due to the fact that I'm in the process of another major work right now, the original work that will come out of the basic idea of this will be a long time in coming, I will say that anyone who wishes to see it when it is done need only send me a line via email or aim and I would be more than happy to get opinions on it.  
  
Whatever the case, this fic is officially, as of today, discontinued. Just wanted to let everyone know that.  
  
Yours Truly,  
  
Banshee Puppet 


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